


Broken Hiatus

by Maemi2295



Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 17:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maemi2295/pseuds/Maemi2295
Summary: these are stories I wrote sometime in early 2018, Named after well, these are the stories I wrote after my five year hiatus from writing. I originally posted these to Tumblr, but I've decided to share them here!  I hope that you all take the time to enjoy these, they are my pride and joy! Some rants, others a bit more poetic. Thanks so much for reading!





	1. Ballade No. 4 in F minor, Op. 52 - Chopin

**Author's Note:**

> So this first one is named Ballade No. 4 in F minor, Op. 52 - Chopin, which is the song that inspired me. though listening to it now, I've no idea how I got this. Maybe you can hear it? I hope so. Anyhow this is my favorite out of all the ones I've written, Enjoy!

The sun was bright this summer time, warmth hugging the trees and ground, casting the marvelous beginning of sunset. The grass was soft between the couples feet as the walked, with pink cheeks and lazy laughter, hands swinging together. A soft breeze carried them, the warmth now a bearable embrace. Her hair was tousled softly by the wind, and momentarily, he could not think of a sweeter perfume. In her eyes, his freckles stood out, a place mark for later when she painted constellations on them. 

She softly laughed, barely audible, even against the gentle breeze, with a tug she pulled him along faster, he nearly tripped over the overgrown vines and various branches. In his glee however, he barely noticed anything. It was silly, there was nothing to laugh at, only their company together, that filled his heart with cherry blossoms and butterflies. Maybe that was enough. 

There was hardly a destination in mind, why would there be if they could go anywhere?  
They twisted and turned around various paths, their own feet laying the groundwork of possibly new ones. For an awful moment in their fun, she’d let go of his hand. Before he could miss it, she sent him a smile and danced around behind a tree, peeking her head out. His hand still missed hers, but the game was just too good to pass up. She shrieked and giggled as he chased after her, hiding behind trees and twisting so he couldn’t catch her. Their laughter seemed as natural as the birds singing and the crickets melodious song.

She slipped around one final tree, a small clearing to her right where the sun shone brightest, a small lake, the wind whipping it’s cool breeze at her ankles. Then suddenly, he was in front of her again, both hands over her head as he startled her from her thoughts. She lightly pinched his stomach in retaliation, grinning as he jerked in surprise. 

He looked down at her, lopsided grin promising of mischief and wonderful summer strawberries that would come later. He placed his hands on her hips, pressing her gently against the tree, her nose to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, a puff of laughter shared between them.  
He placed his left hand on her jaw, cupping softly as he lowered his lips to hers. It was soft and sweet as the aforementioned strawberries, her own arms slackened comfortably against his chest. It did not burn or encase them, the desires those kisses could promise. It had begun to simmer, but it stayed there quiet and without urgency. The sun’s warmth began to cool, like an old friend who promised to return tomorrow. The warmth stayed within them, why should their chosen destination be changed for the fall of dusk. There wasn’t any destination set in mind, other than this, other than each other.


	2. Ancient Cities

She walked through these forests with the awe of a newborn babe, eyes sparkling at every tree, every piece of rubble she saw. This is where she’d come from, all the stories she’d heard of it’s beauty were ringing loud and true in her ears. Palms open brushed against the tall grass, and even taller flowers. The suns rays shone in soft hues, despite the suns placement just lower than the middle. Waterfalls were warm and clear, the paths worn to them were still soft, spreading towards the remnants of the city. Buildings once tall and awe inspiring stood broken, it’s white walls covered in moss and flowers, that starting of a tree in one. The grass had well wormed its way through the cobbled stones.

It didn’t matter, somehow, it made it all the more beautiful.

As she walked, she felt her heart began to race in the delayed joy that the sights had brought her. Excitement surged within raced down to her fingertips, She could have sworn that with just a little more, she could feel magic sprout from them. She shucked off her shoes, bare feet now running through the cities alleyways and what she assumed to be marketplaces.

She ran, faster and faster until she hit what looked to be the center of the city. The grand Palace, it’s gates massive in size, with decorated swirls of iron between the bars. In front of the palace was a fountain, somehow it still worked! Thousands from the city would come to this spot, and drink from it. Because of it’s view from the palace, they believed that on the eve of an important day, a new challenge, they’d raise a cup as a toast to the Palace, and then down the cup. 

Why shouldn’t they have thought so?

The palace, where the rich and powerful were seated. Something so natural, that the palace and its city were built around it. The powerful stood before it, the rest kneeled. 

She walked slowly over towards it, hand caressing the ring around the fountain, displacing the tiny rocks and dust lived there. She felt a presence, beside her, A friend she’d brought along the way, to this journey’s end. He smiled down at her as he raised a cup in one hand, the other held out to her. She laughed, giddy and sweet. It was silly, thinking about it. But it was so honored among her people, a tradition!

She wasn’t one to disgrace the traditions. She took the cup, both filling up with the fountains water.

They both raised their cups up to the palace

To New Discoveries in ancient ruins

Their cups tapped against one another. As she brought her cup down to her lips, in front of her, two apparitions appeared before them, a man and a woman arm in arm raising a glass to them, crowns above their heads. They smiled warmly, also taking a drink.

Excitement bloomed in her anew.


	3. Warrior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit of an odd one, I normally don't write in first person, but this story demanded it to be so. Hope you enjoy!

I can’t help the nausea that over takes me, limping out from the ruins, holding my arm close as it throbs in pain, the taste of salt too heavy on my tongue as it recedes in time. It looks hopeless, over, what feels like, a million miles from home…and there’s nothing but Cursed Snow. the wind aches through my bones, pulling tighter into myself as I walk. It’s too cold, it makes the pain sharper, though were I home, I’m sure I’d appreciate it against the burning pain. But I am not home. I’m a million miles away, after a hard battle, a cause for celebration truly, to be out of it’s way, with a few fellow soldiers who had fought by my side. The enemy had surrendered, the rest of our army up ahead with our leader, we were to join them. I however, was overtaken, but not by the enemy. No, the ice began to shift, and all too quickly it breaks. 

I fell hard, wind scratching at my skin, mingling with the ice as those of us lost spiraled down what was a tunnel. The world was spinning too fast and my skin was numb, so numb it hurt.   
Then I was on hard ice once again, a new found habit I’m sure I will not be breaking any time soon. But there wasn’t any time to contemplate that, this new path was shattering beneath our feet, my allies and enemies began rushing forward, it was the only choice we had. 

I ran and ran, there wasn’t enough air, there was too much air to fuel my lungs as it hit hard, like squeezing water out of a cloth only to drown it again. At the end, there was, finally, solid ground, ruins of an older City than the one they currently fought for. I don’t know how I managed to do it, but I was suddenly ahead of them, that entryway was all that mattered…I was so close, so, so close! Just as I was about to step down…the ice shattered beneath my feet. My heart dropped to my stomach, _no, no! I can’t- no! Something- anyone_! And then I wasn’t falling, though my heart had dropped down with the rest of the ice. I’d managed to grab the edge just in time. I wasted no time climbing up, sitting down on the cold stone with my head against its walls. 

I couldn’t help but laugh, I couldn’t really! It was all just so sudden, all of that, just running, and running, and he was alive- oh by sweet earth he was alive! If any resided in this…whatever this building was, probably thought I was a mad man. My eyes watered as my laughter became something else, I couldn’t describe what- sorrow? Pain? Relief? Or maybe a combination of the three. I felt so…as if I wasn’t in my own body, it was acting on its own with emotions that would lay heavy on me later, when I was least expecting it. When my gasps died down, a different kind of pain bloomed, one at my leg, sprained no doubt, and at my arm, large gashes, fingers bent in a funny way that was starting to make me feel funny again-No! No time for that. I moved my arm, to test how much I could bare. Apparently, the first movement I made was its limit as I had to bite back the urge to vomit. 

Looking back on it now, as I cringe at the thought of going down a flight of stairs- who has stairs like this on the outside anyway, on a cliff! The planks fall off and you’re done for- I’d probably broken my arm during the fall, my leg…sometime in battle…or maybe the fall as well. It was probably a terrible idea to try and get up and walk right after, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t sit there and freeze- I still can’t for the record- I had to find my allies. They were all at the front of the Kingdom that was now ours, but we- I was in the ruins. Alone, with no idea how to get back from this frozen icy hell- let the settlers come in and inhabit it, I won’t be coming back here for all the coin in the world. 

Currently, I suppose I should be thankful, I’m alive, but I’m, injured. I’m alive, I repeated, I’m alive, I have my sword.

I looked up as the sun began to rise from the hills,

I’m alive right now, and that’s more than too many can say

Through the sun’s light, I could see a path through a maze that lead right to where my allies were, flags held high and proud, cheers erupting over the land.

I’m alive, and I can go Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment or Kudos! Those would be appreciated!


	4. Tales of Fanfiction and Originals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was inspired by a friend who said “ i found the worst tag on AO3″ which was “ #you’ve heard of ‘how it should have happened’ fics #now get ready for how it should have NEVER happened but i wrote it anyway“ odd thing to be inspired by but here we are. It's a bit complainy i think but I Hope you like it!

I write with different faces, different names, and different tales. They aren’t of my own creation, but in writing, they might as well be. I tap the quill and words spill onto the page. Eventually, writing enough of these different faces, they become my own in a sense, they are different from who they were, who i thought they were. Maybe it will give me the courage, to write stories of faces and names and tales of my own. If i can write so well with these? Why is it so hard for my own words to travel across lands none have seen? Or perhaps, familiar worlds that bring comfort. Take the chance, and hang on tight, but not so tight your quill breaks. Let it the ink spread onto the paper and guide it into the direction it needs to be. When lost, where does it go? A new path that the old ink didn’t dare think of. Keep scribbling until the page ends, and then another, and another, until the quill is dry and the ink is gone. I hope, with these faces and places that are mine, others too will write with them, be their different names and tales.   
  
But sometimes, the inkwell runs dry before it should. The calligraphy is beautiful, it’s all there and yet…and yet it is incomplete. I promise that I’ll get back to it, but I know better than to believe my own lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment or Kudos! Those would be appreciated!


	5. Sincerely, a Writer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More late night word Vomit, more complainy stuff, but I felt better after writing it! Hope you enjoy!

I love to write, writing is a pleasure I don’t get too often anymore. But when I do, it’s like tapestries just fall from my fingertips. They may not be the greatest pieces of art, but I take pride in them, until the inevitable time I look back on them and cringe. But when I look at my tapestries, I want nothing more to put them out into the world, let them be loved, adored, a source of inspiration for those still first walking on a typewriter.

At one time, they were met with demand. I wrote and they begged for more. It was a wonderful feeling, to have a fan telling of these precious worlds that others have created. But soon, the tapestries stopped and were ruffled at the ends.

I scrambled to write more, keep them happy, keep me happy, this is all i wanted-

They begin to climb up my tapestry-more, more!- they cry, claws raking through the carefully sewn lines.

How ironic is it to find that, my own hands are now claws among them, ripping my tales, begging my mind for something, anything, keep this dream going please. But then all that’s left is the mantle that pinned it to the wall. Empty with but a few strands untouched, but those that say are the worlds that I had borrowed. None of my own words remained.

The lights turned off, curtains shut, and the desire to walk in these giant footsteps I’ve made dissipate with them. I sit down in my spot, curled up and cold, no longer finding comfort in the words I wrote, whether it be the fans I wrote to, or the worlds I created that hoped to shine in spotlight with the rest of them. My flame dies, and so does, I think, a small part of me.

_Shhhh, soft, quiet, lingering’s of words strung together, sentences that could have been! Write them down write them down….It’s too late, sleep has come to take over, that dream forgotten as the stars fall from the sky and the sun takes their place._

_It’s quiet again. And I finally fall silent_  
…  
…  
…

Music shouts to me! It startles me from my place, what is this? New tapestries waiting to be made, lights and curtains drawn open! A small light in my heart stirs. I have to tread carefully, I can’t extinguish whatever this is, whatever chance it has given me.

I write, and write- the inspiration demands it of me, write and write until the tale is done.  
I gaze upon the first creation, the first tapestry that no one demanded of me.

I never want to brag, it feels unworthy, especially to my piece, let it be awed for what it is without a loud mouth to bring it down. But gazing upon it still…it’s beautiful, and _oh_ , how I have missed it.

Even still, I cannot help but to share this piece with those around me. Their encouragement keeps me going, but I can’t lean on that too much. I can’t do that again, I won’t do that again.

Write for myself, not necessarily for others. Soon, I share it to the online world. Very few have taken to my writings. They are not fan based, which is okay, it doesn’t have to be. Though not many come without a fan base to cling onto. I can still feel the echo of a wound. Is it really not so good after all? Is it just lost like another piece of spam mail?

I have to remind myself that it’s okay, keep posting, in due time, maybe, more will come. If not? Write until they do. I have to keep to my own pace, otherwise, how am I to bat the claws that try to swallow it up before I have a chance to defend myself?

I can’t do that again- I **won’t** do that again.

My highlight is here and I will not take it for granted.

Sincerely, a writer.


	6. Siren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an old fic that I decided to update, hope you enjoy!

The night was calm, the calm ocean breeze a sweet contrast against the warm air. The stars shone in their bright hues, almost brighter than the moon itself, dashing any and all hopes that the sky may produce a haunting cloud. Despite the calm atmosphere, a buzz of excitement lingered in the air, like the oncoming of a Thunderstorm. There on the horizon sat a large ship, masts towering like mountains, its flag softly flying in the breeze: The Jolly Roger. There was no doubt of who claimed this mighty vessel, the most known Pirate in all the seas, Captain Aswin Eldritch.

He stood proud, watching as the shore line grew closer, a dark smirk flashing with pearly white teeth, green eyes dancing with Mischief. Tonight, they would celebrate like kings, drink what they wanted, eat what they wanted, any willing woman in the area. All due to the haul they’d claimed.

As the men lowered down the plank, it became clear that they were not the only ones gathered for a celebration, more drinks and food to go around, sea shanties to share- the more the merrier! But these were pirates. You could only let your guard down to a certain degree, a small one at that.

His boots echoed as he walked down the plank into the soft sand. Aswin duly noted that the island itself was very small and woodsy, but it was more than enough to fit and fill the needs of all these pirates and the establishments that came with them: Brothels, bars, and markets. His crew was already well ahead of him, already rushing up to the bar to get some good drinks, rather than the swill that was on board: They were free to do as they wished, the beauty of shore leave. He couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling out from his throat, it never got old watching some of the newer recruits wobble and trip over their own feet, they’d grown their sea legs quite nicely, now it was time to adjust to land again.

He remembered his days, back when he was a newbie, and how long it took him to get his sea and land legs. He brushed that thought away as he headed towards the bar, but a glimpse of something caught his stare.

“Captain?…Captain?”  
  
“Hmm? What is it?”

“You coming?” the young recruit motioned over towards the bar, not that Aswin was watching.  
  
“Yeah- Go on without me, I’ll catch up with you later” the young man shrugged his shoulder, turning and making his way to the bar, a sudden roaring cheer- a toast to the man headed their way, more to join the party. Aswin didn’t care, he was too busy walking over towards the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, a young woman to be exact.

She was sitting on a rock, twirling a long silvery lock of her hair while looking out towards the sea. From where he was standing, it looked as if she were wearing a soft blue dress that hugged her body, skirts flowing gently to the winds time- upon focusing more, his mouth ran dry as he gazed upon her curves. He looked back toward the bar, then back at the woman. On the one hand, he could stock up on whiskey and rum. On the other hand…

With his mind made up, he strode over towards the woman, only speaking when he was within at least five feet of her. "You know, this is no place for a lady, after all it’s crawling with Pirates" She turned her head around towards him, revealing a soft, young face, with gorgeous eyes he couldn’t-wouldn’t dare to part from.

She flashed him a slight smile, “It’s very gentlemanly of to remind me” Her voice was light and whimsical. “Don’t be too deceived, I may be a gentleman, but I am also a Pirate” She smirked slightly standing up from her rock. She was only slightly shorter than him.

If it weren’t for his boots, he’d have been as tall as she was.

“I could say the same to you,” She looked to his hat, “Captain. I do like my pirates” She edged a bit closer to him. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but this woman was a bit odd. Her presence, it had something, more to it, pulling, clinging. But her beauty was too distracting for him to really pay attention to what his senses were screaming.

“What are you doing down here all by your lonesome?” She softly hummed, “Singing” Her voice light and sweet, it drew him in as he stepped closer to her, he glanced down at her soft lips, licking his own.

“Care to sing me a tune?”

She smiled slightly before nodding; “Gladly” she hummed a soft tune, her hands wandering down the buttons of his jacket, slowly vocalizing, his hands beginning to reach for her waist. He couldn’t stop staring into her eyes, which now had a strange glow now that he thought about it. Suddenly, it made all made sense. Why she was all alone by the shore, her voice, her eyes!

“S-siren” She grinned at the name, carefully placing a hand on each cheek, pulling him closer, murmuring against his lips “ I once heard a saying from a great Pirate, ‘Don’t be too Deceived’ ”


	7. Springs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A poem thingy I wrote in high school, hope you enjoy!

I’m exhausted, even without working. I just can’t seem to wake up. I feel like a spring or a coil, above a flame, the metal turning red hot, a fiery glow around it. The spring has been wound so tight it shakes, just as my hands do, be it while I’m awake or not.   
  
As the coil tightens and cracks ever so slightly, the paint around the area chipping, falling into the bottomless pit. The crack lay right in the center of my spine, a clean diagonal cut, no room for chipping here.   
  
The paint turns into a liquefied state-melting, I feel sick, as if the paint were to come from my mouth, bitter, salty, and terribly smooth, like the sleep I’ve never had. But the paint does not fall from my lips, nor overflow; I can’t get rid of it. It’s only a matter of time before the spring breaks, the flame dies, and the rust forms. 


	8. Butterflies and Fairies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another old story I rewrote, hope you like it!

Through the trees gentle rustling of leaves, the sun shone through, still enough cover to it’s sting from her eyes. Her hair fanned out around her, shoes lost somewhere in the forest, her dress tattered and stained with dirt. Her hands dug into the dirt, squeezing tight before letting go. It was close, that upcoming day. It made her heart race and her stomach drop, heavy in its weight.

She rolled over onto her stomach, never minding the various twigs that stuck out or the flowers that had been weaved into her hair by the fae. She scribbled her thoughts into the dirt, the earth would surely keep her secrets. Maybe it would grant her power. It was unlikely, but it was nice to hope….and heartbreaking. She wiped her fingers off on her skirt, ready to draw more, only to feel a slight tug on a singular strand of hair. Without thinking she waved it off, and whatever it was dropped her hair. Then a few moments again, the hair was being tugged in front of her- a small blue butterfly with a strand of her hair in its clutches. She blew softly at it, “Hush, I’m not done yet” it swayed, but with it’s grip it only went side to side. It pulled the hair back going behind her head and tugging it.  
“Oh for goodness sake-” She stood up whirling around, butterfly now just barely hanging on, “ What do you want?”

“What does who want?” She glanced over to her left, a tall young man approached, dressed in casual attire- well, as casual as a friend of their status could. He eyed her quizzically- good heavens she must look ridiculous. “What are you doing out here,” he grinned- that stupidly impish grin that always caused her no end of irritation, “ Talking with ‘Fairies’ again?” her gaze hardened, the laughter inside of her rolling freely- oh if only he knew. He never saw the fairies, the butterflies were just that to him. She played along for his sake, he was missing such a wondrous world of color because he refused to. So in fairness, she kept quiet.

“No, I was just, thinking” and running, running so hard until her legs couldn’t handle anymore-barefoot, free! She hardly minded the finery she had to wear, but it was also wonderful to put all of that behind her. And she did, with every chance she got.

“My, my, thinking now are we? What a change, a marvelous change. Keep at it slow dear, we wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself-” he fully expected that slap to the face as he laughed. She knew he always had a sharp tongue, and sharp wit. Unfortunately, they only ever appeared in separate times, only rarely are they together. He was no better than an older brother honestly.

He wiped a stray tear from his eye, “ I know you’re one to run off into the woods as you dare please. Hopefully your soon to be husband doesn’t mind either, It might be quite a shock, one day you’re sitting next to him then suddenly, POOF! Where has she gone? No one knows! The wedding is coming soon isn’t it? In a few days now, surely" She huffed, turning and walking towards the hill, lifting her skirt for easier mobility. He joked in good fun, and it was. But she didn’t want to talk about that right now. “Where are you going now?” his voice trailed after her, keeping in time with her steps as he followed. Her cold shoulder hardly answered his question.

“Awe, dear, have I upset you?” she sat down against a tree, it had grown awkwardly, stretching horizontally, it was enough to make a seat. He sat down beside her.  
“It’s not a Wedding” she groused, fighting the urge to cross her arms.

“Then what is it?”

She place her palms over her face, dragging them down in frustration. “ It’s just…not fair”

“Now, that doesn’t answer my question” She glanced up at him, twirling a lock of hair around her fingers. When his gaze wouldn’t change, she looked away and relented.  
  
“Darling, you…how do I say this. I don’t mind the finery in our lives, the finery that has us labeled as nobility, I don’t mind the responsibility. I just…I’m one of many thousands, i want to marry who i love, who i choose. What if I wanted to marry a farmers boy- why should my class stop me, or his for that matter. Why should I be removed from nobility, as a Lady. i can run things just fine without anyone at my side, though I’d prefer someone to be there. Even if he doesn’t have a mind for that sort of thing…it just…shouldn’t stop me.”

His eyes softened, understanding broke his heart. “ Won’t be so bad you know?” That sentence stung, even though she knew he was trying to help. Both knew it didn’t, but there wasn’t much to say in a situation like this, “ He’s a good man I’m sure, your parents wouldn’t settle for just any nobleman, only the best for their girl”  
She turned her head sharply away and scoffed, _a good man can do bad things._

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “ I know, I know. Look,” he placed her hand in his, a chaste kiss to her temple that had that familiar love from it, of family, of comfort. “ You’ll always have to talk to. About your awful husband, the ungrateful nanny- she’s so nosey too ugh-” She broke into a sharp laugh, slightly elbowing him in the stomach.

“You are such an arse,” she placed her head gently to his again, holding his hand tightly.

“The one and only” he smiled, thumb rubbing soft circles across her skin. The butterflies danced around them as the sun turned into late evening sunset. They danced in her hair on the breeze, not one flower falling from her hair. He didn’t have to see fairies to know what comfort she took in them. But if she couldn’t find it with them, she always had him. Perhaps this was that power earth gave to her. The strength to find someone to bare her soul to without too many words, without a ring on her finger. Her best friend, even in their differences.

A soft pink butterfly landed on their combined hands.


	9. Of Human Souls and Fantasy

How wonderful it must have been for the human kind to roam free of flesh bodies, and glow among the nature we call earth; to freely dance like the colorful sprites, turning nights into an act of the northern skies, delicately laying upon strong branches and sweet green grass. And to think, we wonder where the flight of sprites and the songs of sirens came from.   
  
How funny it must be to look through these old pages, and have a sense of longing to the tales, various colors the freedom! A rush of energy at the thought, “These tales could have been mine”   
Through the whirl, something speaks, “I want this to be my story” battering at the conscious, only to be stopped by the flesh, whose memory is not as long as the free human,-“ This can’t happen, nor will it”   
the euphoria is gone, and an era has ended.    
by the faint ink in the pages, and their frailty, the memory-now dream- has ended.   
But through the dream, even past its bindings remains in the imagination. 


	10. Madness of Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something I wrote while having a panic attack.   
> was not a fun night, but I hope you enjoy it!

It’s all too loud, but all to quiet at the same time. But my lips never move; sewn shut with black thread with my own, shaking hands. It is my mind that is the culprit! It always is nowadays, thinking far too much about things it shouldn’t. We’ve been down that road before, for you see, my mind is a betrayer!   
  
The thought appearing in various forms, intruding when it wishes. But it never shouts, it whispers. For, what is worse; shouting as loud as you can so the enemy can hear you? Or is it that little whisper into their ear, which may or may not have happened. Had it even been said at all? What is it they meant? Is that what they said? It leaves the mind wandering on itself for hours on end, hoping it wasn’t what they feared most from that one little bit of poison. It’s these whispers that have betrayed me; I pray that they’d stop. They drive me mad! They aren’t wanted nor needed. Please stop, stop! I can’t take them anymore!   
  
But instead, they lie in the background, their voices snickering at my misery. There are days where I look at the brick walls of my room, and get a sweet feeling at the thought bashing my head against them, no more thoughts. But at the same time, a darkness confronts me, that fear, of no longer having the body to have good thoughts. So instead, I keep my head down, my tears at bay, scribbling on paper after paper of various poems to help ease my mind.  
 _Scribble  
scribble  
crush  
whoosh  
_  
into the trash they go, they’re not worthy of sharing, not of any genius.   
The paper is tossed, and the pills prescribed are in hand.  
The bottles rattle as their pills shake from their places, their dosage landing on the table before more.  
Pick them up, bottle of water in the other hand  
 _clamp_  
gulp  
swallow.   
  
The effects have already sunken in, their high a welcome blessing, no more thoughts, no more bad ones. Sweet bliss, almost enough to trust my betrayer again. But it’s still there, whispering, the medication putting a mute over it, but I can still see their lips moving, evilly grinning, snickering.   
A calm song is placed before my ears, their notes fading into my ears, soothing my mind, their storm ending. Their lips are no longer moving, entranced by the wonderful song at hand.  
At last  
  
Quiet. 


	11. Sunshine Swings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was inspired by the artist Woodkid, the song golden age is over. hope you enjoy!

She walked along the soft stone path, the suns rays having turned it from its dark hue ages ago. Arms outstretched, nimble fingers caressing each golden flower as she stepped forward. They were taller than she is now, though nothing compared to the grand tree that stood just off to the left, green leaves contrasting against the pink and purple hues of the sky. A song played on her lips, a buzz that tickled the louder she got.

Gold soon merged with shorter purple stalks and soft blues and tinged pinks. Around the corner the path took her straight to the tree, grass tall enough to scratch at her ankles and cushion her bare feet as she stepped off the path. Amidst the various branches hung a swing, rope taught but old, grain in the wood had plenty of scratches, lovers names, days filled with utter joy and nights of needed tears.

_She walked around the corner once again, the millionth time that summer, a familiar face awaiting her, hands tight on the ropes and an easy smile on his face. A burst of joy shot through her fingertips as she ran, jumping into his lap as he braced for impact, giggling without apology._

_They swung back and forth, kisses passed like notes in a library, soft and sweet, each letter becoming longer and longer._

She sat on the swing, still as sturdy as it had always been. Soft hands gripped tight on the rope, nail running over the individual strands. She started gently, just the suggestion of movement, before it decided to move just a little faster, rope creaking in it’s usual protest.

_Tears ran down her cheeks, the swing only moving just the slightest. She forgets why there was a need for tears here, just that the world had been particularly cruel in the way that gripped her heart so tight that there’s nowhere else for it to go but to stain her cheeks with gasping breaths heavy in her chest._

_Her twin was right by her side, sitting with her, warm hand rubbing circles on her back as she cried into her shoulder._

She swung just a little higher now, looking over the tops of the fields of flowers and trees, the flowers surrounding it in a circle, only the path connected them. Almost like a maze, if one could be lost at home.

_She and her sister scrambled around their grandfather, neighboring friends following also as he carried a plank of wood and some rope. He laughed at their actions, the most curious little things he called them. He climbed the tree himself- a feat that they all surely projected as magic- testing each branch, then tying the ropes around the perfect one. He swiftly climbed down, tying the plank to the other ends. He tested its weight with his own, then again with someone else, it had to be sturdy, just right. With a wave of his hand, light circled the plank up the ropes._

_‘It needed a magic touch, just like it did when i was a boy, only in a far off land’ he told them. The children sat on the various overgrown roots, listening with fascination as he told his story with images that danced along his fingers, at one point the image of a fairy ran through her hair, braiding a strand or two before dancing off into his hands again. Of all things to bring from his old home, it seemed strange to bring a swing of all things. His only explanation being the memories etched into it were too important to leave behind._

At the time, she didn’t understand what that meant. Memories from a plank and some rope? That wasn’t too odd; she still remembered the stick that bruised her side when her sister hit her with it. But such important memories? It seemed silly.

She was older now, and she understood far too well of the importance of these memories. Of the little flutter of happiness she got when she looked at it, the soft tipped sadness of nostalgia ever present.

_She was swung in the gentle softness of sunset, grandfather’s voice telling more stories with a magic only grandfathers had. Rough hands digging into her sides to get a squeal of laughter._

Her feet placed her to a stop, the gentle breeze at her neck, reminding her of the sun’s impending dusk. Slowly, she got up from the swing, looking back down the path she came, then back to it. With the snap of her fingers, the knots were untied and the plank landed on the ground.

She was somewhere new now, standing in front of a tree much like the other, with views of forests and waterfalls. Children latched themselves to her, watching the magic of the ropes, tied snuggly against the perfect branch, Old stories at her tongue, the new ones were saved for last.  
It’s place wasn’t as pretty as it had been at home. Though hardly any place could be compared to home. But this was the new home now, with new sights and different grass to trod in, with more room to have more little carvings and library notes. She sat on the swing as the children around took their seats, eyes watching in fascination as her hands lit up with magic, and dancing images danced on the winds.


End file.
